i remember the night before my first day at a all boys high school well. it felt like the night i died. i was thinking about what it means to have existed. if you are forgotten, did you ever really exist? i thought about ways one could prove their existence. ways such as;

1. do invent something or make a contribution to art or humanity, that’s seen as a masterpiece or important historically and society changing. inventors of truely important things are remember forever, they have proven their existence. weather that be a music genre, something like inventing the plane or writing an important book.

2. to do something that is important too history weather good or bad. is a way to prove your existence. with the morally bad being the easiest way to be remembered.

3. to have children and family, this is a temporary one as you’ll still be forgotten long term, much sooner as the others. not that it applies to me because it’s something i could never do.

the irony of all this back then i was scared of being forgotten, scared of my life and suffering having no meaning. wondering what it meant to have existed. now i hope to be forgotten. it’s all i want. i hope that’s my fate. i hope nobody remembers me. i hope to finally actually physically die like i did spiritually that night 13 years ago.

i died in 2013. i am a rotting corpse. my body has decade decayed beyond recognition and can’t be repaired since then. i am hollow, a shell existence. dead on the inside and outside. i don’t exist. when all the worms come crawling out of your head, and nothing is left. “26 years old” 13 years of rotting. The walking corpse should be buried, forevermore. at peace once and for all.

i hope there’s no proof of my existence left.

goodbye.